Doctorine of Doc
by sunder92
Summary: this is my second VTM story, started because i cought a fatal case of writers block in the other one! this story follows the antics of my second favorite character Doc Malkavian! plz rate and review, otherwise Doc will find you! and pull out your
1. Chapter 1

HI ALL YOU PEOPLE OUT THERE! CAN YOU HEAR ME? What? Too loud you say?

My greatest apologies.

My name is Doc. I used to have a better name, but I cant quite remember it right now… it wasn't Doug, or Gary, and I'm pretty sure I wasn't Princeton. I think my name had letters in it though, not numbers. But, I have been wrong before! Haven't always been right. Sometimes I'm left. Who decided that left was left anyway? How do we know that the guy that first came up with directions didn't say that left was right? Maby he was about to tell everybody, but his friend bob hit him on the head with a rock till his brains came out like toothpaste, and stole his idea! But he said it wrong, and said that left was really left and right was right, right?

Where was I? Oh yeah, my name.

I think I had a name at one point, but I forgot it. I don't know how people keep track of it all, there are SO many people and SO many names, how does anyone know whose is whose? But everyone calls me Doc, cuz' that's the name on my tag. It used to say 'Doctor Someone Somethingson' but now it dosent really say anything. But, it also had writing on it, and that writing has worn down over the years, and now just says Doc. And that's fine with me.

My house is a fun place. I used to think that I was a doctor, and helped crazy people. I think the place I live in used to be an asylum of some sort. But now its just my place, mine and the dozens of homeless buddies of mine that stay the nights. I gave them all comfy jackets, white leather! Long sleeves too, all tied up in the back, cozy like. They are such jokers too! They are always yelling "For the love of god someone help us!" they think god loves them! God dosent love homeless people, because homeless people aren't people! Thus the preface homeless!

They also say things like "please don't kill me!" I don't kill any of them though! Don't worry, I don't kill people, even if they aren't really people. Unless I want to. But I don't want to. At least not yet. Nope, they are just my homeless buddies! And my water bottles, full to the brim with yummy red hobo juice!

Did I mention that I'm a vampire? I think I did… in a vampire named Doc. That's not really my name, but I like it! Did I say that already? Oh well, I have now! And I'll way it again! Doc doc doc doc doc, doc doc doc doc doc. Doc Doc… whose there? DOC Malkavian!

I think I like people. I like how they taste, and I like how they say funny things. Like, I once knew this one guy, I never caught his name, but I was in therapy and he was there too! I don't know who was the patient and who was the doctor, but I don't think we took turns, which was pretty selfish of me! Anyways, he said "I'm a vampire!"

And I said "Nuh-Huh!"

And he said "Yeah-huh!"

And I said "Prove it!"

So he bit me on the neck, and turned me into a vampire too! I think he took my sanity, because I haven't seen it since. It was either my sanity or my wallet… No, it must have been my sanity, because I have my wallet right here. Or someone's wallet. Or a pile of dirt, I can't really be sure. But then, after I went crazy, I kept coming in to work. I kept helping my peeps! I would come into work, prescribe medication, attend therapy, talk with nurses, drink from the water fountain, and even spoon-feed catatonics!

I didn't figure it out till later that I just was seeing things. The vampire, (the other guy, not me) went and ruined the hospital after I fell asleep from a massive case of deadness. I kept coming in to work, but there was no one here! Isn't that funny? I spent 8 years of my life (death? Unlife? Vampiric existence? Cheese? Grandpa? Taco? What was I doing? Oh yeah) helping people that weren't even there! I spoon fed ghosts! I gave medication to homeless people! Isn't that funny? Isn't it? ANWSER ME!

Hi I'm Doc.

I like my name.

Anyways, I spent most of my time after that just a hangin' with my new homeless peeps that weren't people, (cuz I'm not a person either! But not because I'm homeless, I have a home. I think it used to be an asylum of some sort…) and helping them with their problems. I think some of them have Tourettes because they yell a lot, and curse, and cry uncontrollably. I think I might be crazy too, but I don't know…

First rule of psychology: don't self diagnose. But, I am allowed to self prescribe. I think I'm gonna go drink some yummy hobo blood!


	2. Chapter 2

AND NOW I'M BACK! Did you miss me? Of course you did, stupid question… if you didn't miss me, why would you come back and keep reading this? Points for persistence, I'll give you that. DAH CRAP! I just broke the fourth wall didn't I? I am so so soo sorry! I swear, I'm gonna fix it!  
Anyway, I just made a new friend! I was on my way down to the basement to talk to my homeless non-people, when I heard screams from their room. While it was not entirely out of the ordinary for them to scream in fear, these weren't screams of fear. They were screams of pain. Trust me, I have heard enough of both to know the difference. I ran in to help my old buddies, but stopped in my tracks when I saw something ugly on them.  
It was a person. I think it was a person, because it had keys. And houses need keys. Therefore, by deduction, could we not logically deduce that he had a home? Nope.  
The room was bathed in blood, apparently he was not very neat when he ate. The only thing with a heartbeat in the room, the one remaining hobo, was located directly in his jaws, his crimson goodness dripping down the uglys chin. The chin, surprisingly enough, was attached to a face. The face was attached to a body, and the body was attached to a hobo. MY HOBO!  
"HEY!" I shouted as I entered the room! "THAT'S MINE!"  
He looked up from his snack, showing his face. It looked kind of like a baby if you were to set it on fire, then put him on top of the ugly tree, push him off, and make him hit every branch on the way down. He seemed to be puzzled, though facial expressions were merely a confusion on its face.  
"well…" I started, "I guess you can have the rest… your slobber's all over it, and it's probably no good anymore. Just ask before we take next time, shall we?"  
"Umm… Kay?" he offered, most likely wondering why I didn't run the other way screaming.  
As he dropped my… HIS hobo, and started to wipe the filth of his feast off of his skin, I got a look at the rest of him. His arms were thin and lanky, though wiry. His skin, where devoid of his crimson veil, looked grey and green. He wore no shirt or shoes, only what looked like a pair of dirty jeans. His ribs poked through in some places, his rotted skin hanging to it like so much old paper. His nails were long and yellow, as were his teeth, both of which were sharpened to a fine point. With nails like that, it would get pretty painful if he had to 'adjust his package' as horrifying as that image was. He had a strong under bite, which put his teeth near his nose, which was sunken in, as were his eyes. He was completely bald, unless you count veins poking through his scalp as hair.  
All in all, he looked better than Hillary Clinton.  
"So… " I started, trying to start up normal small talk. I tried my best, I really did!  
"What's your name, clan, killcount, favorite robot from Wall-E, weapon of choice, generation, favorite color, favorite animal, and birthday?" He took a second or two to answer. Apparently he didn't talk very often…  
"umm… John, Nasferatu, 86, that wheel thing, M24 sniper rifle, 13th, dark green, black widow, and sometime in January," he replied, apparently pleased with himself for being able to continue on an intelligent conversation.  
"And, why is there a 13th generation Nasferatu named John, that has apparently killed 86 people, most likely with a M24, who likes green, black widows, Otto, and was born in January doing in my basement, dipping into my stash of homeless things?"  
"I am sorry," John the Ugly replied almost apologetically, "I did not know this was a haven."  
"yeah, that's a common mistake. I often forget that I live here as well, and hell, sometimes hobos just tie themselves up in my basement."  
"yes, I guess that should have given me a hint as to the occupancy of this place," he said stoically, looking around at the walls.  
"No biggie!" I replied, "I can get more. You would be surprised what people just throw out! One time, I found a diamond necklace in the trash! Just sitting there! All I had to do is clean the woman off of it, and it was mine for the taking! Though, now that I think of it, it may have been a bedroom, not a trashcan. Anyway, the point is that I can find more homeless cans of soda!"  
"alright…" he started, "I will just be going now."  
"whats the hurry?" I questioned, "It'll be dawn soon, and there are plenty of dead things to make into a mattresses. Don't you want to stay for the sleepover?"  
"ummm… no thank you." He replied politely, "I would hate to impose, and I try to avoid staying in places I have not scouted, with people that I do not know."  
"are you scared of me?" I asked, raising one eyebrow.  
"More wary and alert that frightened." He answered.  
"well, it's not like you have much of a choice…" I started, "the sun is 18.62 minutes till its crest over the horizon, and we are more than 10 miles from the nearest source of shade, other than the forest. Unless you are willing to take shelter under the sparse canopy of that particular grove, you would need to run at a constant rate of 32.2 miles per hour, which unless you have celerity out the ass, is impossible, seeing as the world record for speed is currently 26.7 mph, and that's just for a sprinter. The highest sustained speed is just over 15 miles an hour, which is about half as fast as you need to be."  
He cocked his head, engrossed and transfixed, then shook it with a sigh.  
"fine," he said with finality, "I guess I am stuck here till morning. But know that if you try to eat me, you will not succeed before your brains are not but paint on the walls."  
I grinned devilishly.  
"well now, we wouldn't want that! I like the walls the shade they are. Fear not dear ugly, Doc doesn't eat junk food!"


End file.
